An Ordinary Affair
by Krazy-K0ala
Summary: When a king falls from grace, and there's no one around, does he make a sound? AU. Based off of real people and events in history
1. Chapter 1

**_AN_**

_Hey there, it's been a long time since I've been on FF. For those of you who still might possibly happen to watch me, welcome back! I posted a story about a year or so ago called "I'd Rather be in Hell", but after I was already 15 or 16 chapters into it, it got taken down for having an "inappropriate title". So needless to say, I was pretty upset and left FF for a while. But I'm back! Although this isn't a South Park fic (which is what my other story way) I hope you'll enjoy this one :)_

_Let the story commence~_

* * *

Francis crossed his legs and leaned against a wide oak tree. The town was spread out far below him, and the sky was a clear blue. He watched as people went about their daily lives. A couple of cute girls would walk past him, and he would give them a wink or two. Not many people came out this way though; it was on the outskirts of town, and the only thing past it was farmland.

Francis felt his eyes drifting shut, but he refused to fall asleep. He had been up all night trying to find a suitable place to stay, but unfortunately he didn't know anyone in Belgium, let alone Ghent.

Soon his stomach started to rumble, and he sighed. He would have to make his way into town again. He didn't like it here. They all knew he was an outsider, and if they didn't know it, his French accent certainly gave it away.

Francis stood up and brushed off his worn pants. He desperately wished for a bath and fresh clothes. He tied his blond hair back with a ribbon and made his way for the nearest market.

Not as many people were on the streets as there were yesterday. Francis tried to think what day it was, but he couldn't remember. The markets were open, so it couldn't have been Sunday, but where was everyone?

He stopped by an open fruit stand being run by a young man, about 15. He was busy sorting out apples.

"Excuse me, I-"

The man looked up sharply, narrowing his eyes. Francis hesitated. "I was wondering if-"

"What do you want?" the man asked, standing up. He never took his eyes off of Francis.

"Some apples would be nice," Francis said angrily. This man was treating him like a thief.

The man turned up his nose. "4 Euros."

Francis gaped at him. "It was only 2 yesterday!"

"Well now it's 4."

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose. He reached into his pocket and pulled out 3 Euros. "This is all I've got."

He gave it to the man, but he shook his head. "I said 4."

"And I'm telling you, I only have 3."

"Well then you can go find yourself another place."

Francis scowled. "Fine." He looked around, but the place was deserted. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

The man scoffed. "What's a Frenchman like you doing here?"

"That certainly didn't answer my question," Francis sighed. "I'm just passing through. I'm heading towards the Netherlands to visit my sister."

The man didn't say anything more. Francis started to walk towards where the sun was setting, since he knew the ocean was that way. He was tired of this place, and he figured he could stow away on a merchant ship and travel somewhere else.

He passed by a couple of other markets, but they all treated him the same way. At least the place wasn't as deserted. When he got to the edge of the town, the sun was low in the sky.

"Young man!" someone called out. Francis turned to see an older woman, waving in his direction. He looked around him before walking towards her.

She was behind a stand with piles of fresh meat and fruits. She had grey hair, and a white bandana held it out of her face. She smiled at him, the first one he had seen all day.

"How much?" Francis asked, nodding towards the food. The woman looked puzzled for a second.

"Oh, well everything is 2 Euros right now! Except for the meat, that's 3."

Francis held his stomach as it growled loudly. He fished 3 Euros out of his pocket, his face red.

"Oh you're going to want more than just a slab of meat, aren't you?" the lady laughed. When Francis didn't join in she stopped. She grabbed a brown sack and started to wrap some meat for him.

"Why did you call me over?" Francis asked.

"You're a foreigner," she shrugged. "Foreigners don't do well out here. French ones especially."

She handed Francis a bag full of meat and fruits. Francis shook his head and handed it back to her. "3 Euros is all I have."

She pushed the bag back towards him. "Take it."

Francis didn't argue. He set the bag by his feet, thanking her.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, still curious as to why the place looked empty. The place was packed yesterday.

The lady looked around and sighed. "They've all gone to the Oostende and Zeebrugge. It's about a day's trip from here, just head west up near the coast. Word has it that there's war brewing over in France, and a British army has come looking for recruits. For a small place like Belgium, that's pretty big news, and this is all pretty exciting. Some say the king himself is coming! Those who didn't go up there stayed here and locked themselves inside. They're afraid the Brits are going to come steal them away at night and force them to fight."

"A war…" Francis muttered.

The lady grabbed a piece of fruit and started cleaning it off with her apron. "Shouldn't a Frenchman at least know there's a war in his own country? What are you doing in Ghent, anyway?"

Francis picked up his food. "Visiting my aunt. She's deathly sick, and her daughter's all alone."

"How tragic," the lady sympathized. "Here, take another apple for her. They say that a couple of these will cure a sick woman to the bone."

Francis had never heard that before, but he thanked her and left to go west. He ate an apple and a slice of bread, more focused on trying to find a place to stay before sundown.

Soon he found an empty shop, and easily broke the door in. He set his food down and rummaged through the place. Unfortunately, there weren't any beds or spare rooms. He placed some of the chairs together and lied down, staring at the dark ceiling. He figured no one would be back anytime soon, because if word just got out yesterday that meant people wouldn't be arriving near the docks until tonight or tomorrow.

Francis figured he'd head west to gather more information. Besides, with the town deserted there was no place to work or stay without breaking into houses and stealing. And he was not about to become a thief. Except for this one night.

He settled down and cut anther slice of bread. He found some strawberry jam in the back along with some cheese and milk. He ate a nice dinner and drifted to sleep. He had a long day ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

Francis awoke suddenly. Mainly due to the fact that there was a young girl standing in the doorway screaming at him.

"Get out!" she was yelling, throwing random object at Francis. He fell off of his makeshift bed, scrambling to gather his food. "Get out, get out, get out!"

Francis stood up, towering over the girl. She couldn't have been more than 8 or 9, and she was clutching a pile of books in her hand. Or what used to be a pile, since all of the books were now scattered on the floor.

"_Mon cher,_" Francis said softly, picking up the books. The girl took a step back, eying him. He carefully stacked the books and pushed them towards her. "There is no need for yelling."

"What are you doing here?" she squinted.

"I was merely sleeping," Francis said, bending down to her height. "I saw a gang of men last night threatening to steal everything in this shop."

The girl's eyes got wide. She looked around, making sure nothing was in fact stolen.

"I came to scare them off," he continued. "And I was making sure they didn't come back. I must've dozed off."

Thankfully, the little girl believed him. She set down her remaining books and quickly ran around the shop, staring at the shelves, nodding every now and then. Francis breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are your parents around?" Francis asked as she looked underneath the tables. The last thing he wanted was for the shop owners to come back.

The girl shook her head. "Mommy should be here soon. Daddy went off with the other men to go west. He's going to see the king!"

Francis grabbed his sack of food. "Well what a coincidence, so am I! I better be off, I musn't keep the king waiting."

The girl turned around. "But what if the robbers come back?"

"Oh, don't worry," Francis winked. "I scared them off pretty good. They're probably all the way in Italy by now."

Francis quickly left before the girl could protest. He had hoped to wake up early and get a head start, but it was later in the day than he thought. He cursed to himself and set off west on the main road.

The walk wasn't as long as he had anticipated. After he stopped and ate lunch, he was already halfway there. There were some caravans set up along the side of the roads, and he didn't bother to stop. He wanted to get to Oostende as fast as possible.

When he finally saw the city in sight, he couldn't believe it. There were hundreds of people all trying to get close to the sea, but with no luck.

Francis slowed down, wiping his forehead. The sun was setting on the horizon, and he was proud of himself for making it here within the day. Even though it was starting to get dark, the people made no attempt to go look for a place to sleep.

Francis made his way into the crowd. Everyone was stopped and talking happily amongst each other. Lights were on in every building, loud noise drifting out from the open doors.

The middle of the town was even more crowded than the outskirts, if that was possible. Francis could barely get by, so he tapped a man's shoulder next to him. "Excuse me, mind telling me what's going on?"

"Ah, of course!" the man said with a heavy French accent. Francis smiled. Finally, some friendly company. "There's a British ship on its way. Rumor has it that the king himself is aboard, and everyone is just dying to get a glimpse. Alas, people are saying the ship isn't going to arrive until tomorrow morning."

"That's a shame," Francis muttered unenthusiastically. The man turned around and continued chatting with another older gentleman. Francis drifted away, searching for a place to stay.

As he went in and out of the crowd, he learned that the ship was in fact not going to show until sometime early in the morning. Some people were disappointed and started to leave, but many refused to move. Some of them took to sleeping in the streets, not wanting to miss a thing.

Francis finished off the food in his bag. All that was left was raw meat, which he couldn't eat without a fire. He wasn't about to let it go though. He didn't have anything left, and it was going to be hard to get some food around here.

As he wandered around some more, he finally spotted a small inn. There was a girl standing out front, calling out room prices. People were ignoring her though, trying to get closer to the docks.

Francis walked inside, giving the girl a smile. The place wasn't as crowded as some of the other ones. No one paid him any attention, so Francis quietly made his way to the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He walked around the small place, before finally he saw a door left open. He poked his head inside, not seeing anyone. He made his way inside, locking the door behind him. The place looked unoccupied.

Any other day, Francis figured he wouldn't be able to get away with this, but there were so many people around that no one noticed. There was a small window on the opposite side of the room, and Francis looked out of it in awe. He could see the ocean in the distance, the dark waves silently crashing against each other. The streets were alive and brightly lit, but he figured everyone would tire themselves out.

Francis hoped onto the bed, stretching out. "This is nice…" he sighed to himself. He rolled over onto his side and almost instantly fell asleep.

Sooner than Francis would have liked, he was awake. It was still dark out, but he could tell the sun was starting to come up. He rolled over and groaned, rubbing his eyes.

There was a loud bang outside, and Francis sat up. Was that… gunfire?

Before he could think, another shot rang through the air. He jumped up, running to the door. He could hear people running around in the streets, yelling. He ran down the stairs. The inn was deserted.

Francis ran out into the streets, looking around. A group of kids ran past him.

"The ship is here, the ship is here!" one of them cried out.

Francis groaned and ran a hand through his hair. How could he have forgotten? And here he thought the place was actually in trouble…

Francis quickly headed towards the docks. Sure enough, he could see a ship in the distance, and everyone was crowded around in the streets, trying to get a better look.

There was another gunshot, and people screamed happily. _Idiots_… Francis thought. Someone could easily get shot and no one would be the wiser. Everyone seemed to be doing fine, though.

Francis made his way towards ship, receiving a lot of angry glares for trying to push past people. Soon, he was as close as he could get, and ship was coming to halt. Men on the ship were throwing anchors overboard and tossing down ropes so the ship could be tied to the dock. There were so many people he was surprised no one got pushed into the ocean.

A board lowered onto the docks, and everyone got quiet. A man appeared at the top in a soldier's uniform, his arms spread wide.

"Oostende!" he cried. "I'm sure you are all aware why we have come, and we are very pleased to see so many people!"

The man slid down the board, jumping onto the docks. People craned their necks to get a better look at him, but most of them kept their eyes on the ship.

"Where's the king?" someone asked quietly.

"It is true," the man continued. "We believe fighting in France is inevitable. We need as many recruits as we can, and we would appreciate any man who is willing to help!"

A couple more soldiers were streaming onto the docks now. People were starting to get fidgety. "Bring out the king!" someone yelled. There was a murmur throughout the crowd.

"King?" the man blinked. "The king of England?"

"What other king is there!?" someone called rudely. The crowd was starting getting louder.

"Citizens," the man put up his hands. "Please, calm down!"

"We want the king!"

"Come on, he has to be in that ship somewhere!"

"We were lied to!"

Francis sighed, leaning against the side of a building. He hated loud noises, and he could tell this wasn't going to end well.

"There is no king here," a loud British voice said from the ship. Everyone looked up. A man stood there in a full general uniform. He had blond hair, messed up from the wind, and he was glaring down at the crowd. _He'd been cute if it wasn't for his monstrous eyebrows_, Francis thought.

"No king?" someone wailed. The crowd started to disperse, clearly upset by the fact that the king himself hadn't shown up. At least they weren't starting a riot.

Francis walked forward as people started to walk away. The general on the ship was walking down, sighing. A couple of the soldiers were talking to citizens, trying to recruit them, but they didn't want any part of it.

"Which one of you bloody fools told them the _king_ was coming?" the general growled to a couple of his men. They all looked at each other nervously, denying any accusations.

The general sighed again. He looked up and spotted Francis watching him. "Can I help you?"

"I think I should be asking you the same thing," Francis grinned.

The general arches his eyebrow, looking Francis up and down. "You're telling me _you_ want to join the war?"

"Me? Oh goodness, no. I couldn't let a pretty face such as this get hurt."

"Typical frog," the general muttered under his breath. "If you'll excuse me then, I have business to attend to."

Francis rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself."

"General Kirkland," a soldier said, coming up to them. "What are your orders, sir?"

"Go rally whatever soldiers you can and talk to some shopkeepers. See if they'd be willing to help us. I barely know this town, so we're going to need the local's help."

"Yes, sir." The soldier saluted and went off, shouting orders.

"I might be of assistance," Francis offered. "I've lived here since I was a boy."

The general looked at him suspiciously. "Then what's with the heavy French accent?"

"My parents, they're French," he waved. "Never mind that, I could help you rally some people."

The general was about to say something, when a loud yawn interrupted him. He rubbed at his eyes, apologizing. He looked like he hadn't slept in months.

"Why don't I show you to an inn around here?" Francis suggested.

The general sighed. "That sounds nice… I've been up the past two nights, trying to come up with battle plans."

Francis started to walk off, the general trailing behind him. "Shouldn't you be more careful? What if I'm I spy?"

"Oh please, I'm not going to go into detail. Besides, if you were a spy I'd just execute you on the spot."

"How nice of you."

The general stretched out his arms. He looked young, early 20s maybe. Francis noticed his eyes were a light green color, and they were constantly moving around, observing his surroundings. And those eyebrows.

"I never got your name," the general spoke up.

"Francis. Francis the Great is also acceptable. And yours?"

"Arthur. General Kirkland will do."

"Ah, here we are, Arthur," Francis grinned, stopping in front of the inn he stayed at last night.

Francis held the door open, and Arthur walked in. Every pair of eyes stared at him angrily.

"I guess people aren't taking this king thing too lightly," Francis said as Arthur made his way to the front desk.

"One room, please."

The innkeeper frowned. "200 Euros."

Arthur fished a small bag out his pocket. "I'll be staying for a 5 days."

The innkeeper blinked a couple times, collecting the money. "Very well, this way."

Francis whistled. "Who just keeps 1,000 Euros in their pocket?"

Arthur ignored him, following the innkeeper up the stairs. They went through the same door Francis had gone into the night before.

"What the…" the innkeeper muttered. "I don't remember showing anyone to this room last night."

Francis walked in behind them. He had left the covers of the bed tossed onto the floor, and the window was wide open.

"That sure is weird," Francis said quickly.

"No matter," Arthur sighed. "The place is empty now. Thank you very much."

The innkeeper nodded and left back down the stairs. Arthur stared at Francis. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"I appreciate your help, but I would like my sleep now," Arthur said, clearly irritated.

"Of course," Francis said, holding his hands up. He stood in the doorway. "I'll come back when you wake up!"

"Eh, wait a minute," Arthur called out, but Francis was already halfway down the stairs.

"Damn frog…" Arthur muttered, closing the door.

_Shit, now where am I supposed to stay… _Francis thought bitterly as he walked outside. Many people were starting to head home or finding a place to stay, since they were up all night waiting for the ship. That was supposed to be his room, and now that stupid Brit was taking it.

"Oh well," Francis sighed. "Looks like I'll just have to stay with him."

* * *

**_AN_**

_I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this story. Just kind of writing on a whim, but let's hope I can make it a little more interesting now that Arthur showed up~_


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN**_

_So stupid me realized halfway through writing this that they didn't have Euros back then, they had shillings. So we'll just look over that minute detail. Even though this based on historical events, I'm not really too worried about making it historically accurate haha. I just thought it would be a cute idea. Short chapter, but away we go~_

* * *

Francis strolled around the town, stepping in and out of shops. He figured he should at least try and find some work, since food didn't pay for itself.

"How could I have misplaced a bag of meat?" Francis muttered angrily, his stomach growling. "It's a bag of stinking meat, for crying out loud." Not to mention the only food he had…

Unfortunately, no one wanted to hire a foreigner. Even one with such dashing good looks. Who also desperately needed a bath… and new clothes, according to the owner of one of the shops.

"Well maybe if I had some _money_ I could buy some! But nobody wants to hire me!" he said angrily to said owner.

He sighed in aggravation, kicking the door open and storming outside. He rounded the corner, the scent of cooked food hitting him like a brick. Onions, beef, seafood, tomatoes, potatoes, corn, you name it. Francis all but ran over, his mouth watering.

"Get your food while it's hot!" a man cried, ringing a bell. "Cheap and fresh, 7 coins a meal!"

Francis eyed the food hungrily. There was a steady stream of people that came up to the open restaurant, grabbing their food and throwing money into the man's apron. They would sit down at chairs placed around outside, some standing to eat quickly before dashing back off to wherever they needed to be.

Francis watched men in the back cooking fish and dumping food onto plates. The sound of pots and pans clanking against the stoves was enough to make Francis hungry.

A cook carelessly placed a dirty cup of water onto the shelf along with people's food. Francis looked around, but nobody was paying attention to it. Before long, a plate of food was placed next to it.

Before anyone grabbed it, Francis snatched it up, along with the water. He hurried off, down the street and into the first alley he could find, not looking back.

No one seemed to be following him, and Francis breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned against the wall, looking at this plate.

There was a small piece of fish, still hot to the touch. Around it were slices of potatoes as well as what looked like green beans.

Francis tentatively took a bite of his fish. Before long, his plate was empty. The fish was too hot, the potatoes were bland, and what he thought were green beans were not, in fact, green beans. He wasn't really sure what they were, but it was the best meal he had had in a while.

Francis tossed the metal plate into an empty bin next to him. He didn't have a use for it, anyway. He took a sip of the water, drinking it slowly.

Francis left the alleyway, leaving the cup behind as well. He decided to stroll down by the docks to see what Arthur's men were up to.

When he got there, the place was nearly deserted, besides two men who were guarding the ship's entrance. Francis decided not to bother with them, since they seemed to be fully armed.

Instead he walked down the road, peering into the different shops and pubs. Occasionally he would see a group of soldiers playing cards or talking, but they didn't seem to be doing much else. They certainly weren't trying to recruit people.

He stepped into one of the bars. The dimly lit place wasn't very crowded since it was the middle of the day. Francis wasn't much of a beer drinker, but he spotted wine. He could spot wine from a mile away. And god, he hadn't had wine in so long.

Francis ignored the group of loud soldiers in the corner. The only other person inside was an old man in the corner who was either asleep or dead.

Francis looked around, but the bartender didn't seem to be around. He tossed a look over to the old man, who snored loudly.

A door opened and a heavy man came out, wiping his hands on a dirty towel.

"Hey," the man said angrily. Francis felt a knot in his stomach. "What are you doing?"

"I, ah…" Francis said nervously.

"Bars closed," he said, not bothering to look at Francis.

Francis pointed to the group in the corner. "What about the Brits?"

The man grunted. "Said they were on some official duty. Official duty my ass. They pay well, though."

"And the man in the corner?"

The bartender looked over at the sleeping man, noticing him for the first time. "God damn it. He was supposed to be looking after the place while I was out back. Guess he didn't lock the door." The man sighed. "What'll it be?"

"Your finest wine, please."

The man snorted. He reached up and grabbed the only bottle of wine on the shelf. It was full of dust, and obviously hadn't been used in years. He poured a glass, sliding it over to Francis. "12 coins."

Francis nodded. "Of course."

They sat there, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. The man sighed. "Well?"

_Quickly… _Francis thought. _Take the glass and run. You don't have the money for it. Why'd you even come in here in the first place? I bet the wine doesn't even taste that good. Plus this place kind of stinks._

There was a loud crash in the corner, and Francis turned to see a soldier on the floor. The others were howling with laughter, the man on the floor rubbing his head and holding a broken chair.

"Hey!" the bartender yelled. "What do you think you're doing? Coming in here and breaking my furniture? All of you, out of here, we're closed anyway! Where's your officer, eh?"

The bartender continued to shout at them, coming out from behind the counter and storming up to them, his back turned on Francis. Francis quickly grabbed the glass of wine, sliding off his chair silently and heading for the door.

"Well, what is this?" Francis muttered, spotting a bag on the table in front of the sleeping old man. He snatched it up and put it in his pocket in one swift motion, never slowing down. Before the bartender noticed he was gone, he was out the door and down the street.

Francis drank the wine slowly. It was aged nicely, probably not on purpose since it had been sitting there for years, but it was nice. He headed back to the inn Arthur was staying at.

Francis pulled the small bag out of his pocket, feeling the change inside. He opened it and peered in, whistling. There had to be at least a hundred coins in there. At this rate he wouldn't have to find a job at all.

Coming up the inn, he put the bag in his pocket securely and went inside, going up the stairs to Arthur's room. Technically it was his room since he had it first, but whatever.

"Afternoon, sir!" Francis said obnoxiously, walking into Arthur's room. "You really shouldn't leave your door unlocked."

Arthur shot up from his bed, his hair sticking out every which way. Francis plopped down on the edge of the bed, grinning. "Feeling well?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I did say I would be back," Francis pointed out. "You aren't happy to see me?"

Arthur grunted, falling back down onto the bed and rubbing his eyes. "How long have you been gone?"

"A couple of hours. Aren't you hungry?"

"Look, I really appreciate the concern, but I'm on duty. I'm not supposed to be making friends."

"I saw some of your men at a pub by the docks," Francis stretched. "They weren't exactly following orders either, so I think it's alright if you make a friend or two."

"Wha- what!?" Arthur cried. "What were they doing?"

"Drinking? What else would a group of men at a pub do?"

Arthur muttered to himself, getting out of bed and grabbing his general's coat. "They're going to get an earful."

"I'll be here!" Francis waved. Arthur was about to say something but just sighed and went out the door. Francis sat up, pulling the bag of coins out of his pocket and dumping it onto a table.

"118… 119… 120!" Francis counted them out. "That's not too shabby." He scooped them up and dropped them back into his bag, whistling to himself. He lied back on the bed and before he knew it, he was drifting to sleep.


End file.
